Worth Something
by David J. Knight
Summary: A nighttime delivery sets Spock on a path to save someone... and discover his true worth. Oneshot.


_**Worth Something**_

The rain poured like a constant patter of small pebbles slamming against his walls and ceiling. Spock sat on his couch, the small cup held in his hands firmly. He stared ahead, trying to forget the rain. It wasn't as though its presence was frightening or discomforting; if it were so, Spock would not be Vulcan. However, it eroded his concentration without fail, something which he needed dearly tonight.

The cup was the source of his dilemma. Nyot-… Cadet Uhura had left it in his class that morning. Knowing that the loss of the object, a small mug with a Bugs Bunny cartoon emblazoned on it, could very well cause her considerable distress and may affect her performance in class, Spock had decided to return the mug to her, with all due haste.

He had managed to become determined enough to do so when the storm had started. A loud, crashing downpour that sounded as though a large bombardment was occurring outside. Lightning and thunder blasted through the quiet night and made Spock reconsider his idea, made him sit motionless on his couch rather than make the short trip across San Francisco to the Academy, where Cadet Uhura would be, likely still awake; it was only 1900 hours.

Spock swallowed heavily, frowning and then forcing his face back to emotionlessness as he pondered the curious lump that had formed there.

This was strange. He had never experienced such a unique reaction to stimuli before. What kind of stimuli was causing it?

As much as he wished to research and understand his current state, he knew he had a limited window of time to reach Cadet Uhura and deliver her mug before she slept, and then he would have to wait for another day to present it to her.

Very well, then. He had to go out into the rain. So he did.

He did not own an umbrella, and had only a thin jacket with a similarly thin hood for protection against the falling water. He had never assumed he would be placed in a situation in which he would be forced to travel outside during a storm. As such, Spock found himself becoming steadily more and more damp and cold as he strode from the door to his apartment complex and into the deserted streets.

Vulcan did not have water that fell from the sky; it was one of things he had been made to adapt to when he arrived at Earth. It was a strange oxymoron, really; the planet was named for the landmasses that covered only a third of its surface, when it was one of the few worlds that had an abundance of the substance that was required for life. If they had been logical, humanity would have named the planet Water.

Spock picked up his pace through the rain-soaked streets. There were no hoverbuses in sight, and waiting for one might cost him more time and comfort than walking at his normal brisk stride. He pulled his jacket closer to him and fought back a shiver. He supposed, had he been human, he would have missed Vulcan, with its warmth and dry climate.

Spock felt his eyes darken (how did he _feel_ his eyes change? Did they even change? How was that possible?); they were the only part of his body that he had inherited from his mother. She had often told him they were a special part of him, one which offered a window into his soul. He had turned away, shamed for such a weakness.

Was it a weakness? His humanity? He has chosen Starfleet, Earth, over the Vulcan Science Academy. Even now, he questioned his judgment.

_Why did you come before this council today? Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?_ He still heard the councilor asking him the question bluntly, catching the hint of emotion, the hint of contempt that the elder prided himself on being devoid of.

Perhaps he had acted out of emotion, but now, years later, Spock was quite certain that he had made the correct choice, logically-guided or not.

Even so…

There it was again. The doubt that plagued him every moment of his life where his mind was on its own and it was not busy dealing with the day-to-day life of the Academy.

Doubt that he was supposed to be here. Doubt that he was useful. Doubt that he was good enough for anything. Spock vaguely wondered if a lifetime of prejudice could destroy a person…

The rain seemed to fall quieter, but Spock noticed no distinct difference in the rate of rainfall. The patter was still constant, and a loud shout of lightning barked overhead and briefly lit the street by a small amount.

Was he worth anything? He had been, for all intents and purposes, outcast by his people for rebelling against their ways, for being a half-breed, an outsider by birth, because of something he could not change. He had no beings that cared about his current status, save for his mother… and perhaps Cadet Uhura…

Spock felt his eyes change again, more to something resembling sadness and loneliness. Strange. He should not feel lonely, as he had no reason to let it affect him.

Was he really worth anything? Was he worth being a mug-delivery agent?

A disturbance brought Spock from his reveille. It was low, almost indiscernible from the constant battering of raindrops on the ground, but it was there. Spock's Vulcan ears received the sound and his mind identified it at once…

It was strange. There was erratic, hard breathing, apparently a human female, followed by more breathing, also heavy, distinctive to human males…

The males were shouting, and the female breathing increased as she increased whatever activity was making her work so hard. Spock turned to the direction of the sound, discovered an alley between two large buildings. The pathway was clear for now, but the sounds were most definitely coming closer from within. The alley turned sharply to the left a short distance down.

Spock stood in the rain, his hood now fully soaked through. He removed it; being confined within it was not preferable to remaining outside it when the hood served no further purpose. He remained at the entrance to the alley, listening to the sounds grow louder and more pronounced, wondering if he should investigate.

His human curiosity got the better of him, as well as an interesting sense that caused a pit to form in his stomach. It was instinctual, and he recognized it from the fights he had experienced with other Vulcan students in his childhood.

His human instincts were shouting danger. Spock moved down the alley.

He turned the corner and immediately saw the disturbances; a woman was sprinting down the alley in civilian clothing, closely pursued by three men, all wearing black outfits and dark beanies. Spock stopped short as the woman locked eyes with him in the darkness.

Then the three tackled her to the ground and cackled loudly as she screeched and attempted to smack them away with her purse. One pinned her arms to the ground while the others threw her purse away and moved lower to the ground.

Spock felt a plethora of emotion rise within his chest; anger, disgust… power. Power to stop what was about to happen.

He strode forward quickly and loudly, splashing his feet against the wet ground as hard as he could. The three men looked up at him with a mixture of shock and annoyance, then nervous amusement. One of them, likely the alpha of the group, stood and withdrew a shot knife from his pant pocket.

"Hey, there, sonny", he said darkly, "you wanna get outta here right about now. We got us some business and you ain't got no part in it."

Spock continued to walk forward and lightning crashed. As his face was illuminated, he heard the man gasp as he saw his pointed ears. "Remove yourself from the woman", Spock said clearly, "or I will remove you."

The man's face contorted into anger. "Check it out, guys", he sneered. "We got ourselves a damn Vulcan boy scout. He thinks he wants to intervene a little, eh?" The second and third men moved away from the woman and bracketed the leader. They also armed themselves with blades.

"It is only logical to leave, now", Spock continued, surprised at how easily the words slipped from his mouth, "while you still are able to do so on your own."

The leader growled. "I think he's bein' a little too logical for his own good", he said. The woman sat up behind them and cowered, too frightened to move. "Let's take him."

Then, in an instant, Spock decided how he would end the fight before it began.

The leader jabbed with his knife first, aiming for Spock's ribcage sloppily. Spock batted the arm away with ease with his left arm and quickly twisted his wrist around to grasp the man's forearm. He moved far quicker than the man could react, and he slammed his right arm down on the outstretched and vulnerable limb.

He heard a bone snap cleanly and the man shouted. The knife dropped from his grasp. Spock knocked him away as the other two men moved in for vengeance.

One sliced low for his abdomen while the other jabbed at his neck. Spock shoved the lunging blade aside and used his elbow to impact the man's face while he used his other arm to catch the wrist of the arm slicing for his stomach. Twisting sharply, he wrenched the offender's arm 360 degrees and felt the bones break into pieces.

Both men fell to the ground, the one he had impacted with his elbow unconscious.

In approximately five point two seconds, he had incapacitated three men armed with knives. Spock raised an eyebrow. Quite satisfactory.

He nerve-pinched the moaning two men on the ground, and soon it was silent save for the rain and the woman's scared breathing.

Spock approached her cautiously, aware that she might react negatively to his presence after what she had just witnessed, however illogical it may be.

"Th-th-thank y-you", she mumbled. Spock stood silently in front of her, and she stood shakily, retrieved her purse. "Th-thank you so much."

Spock inclined his head. "It was only logical to assist you. They will be unconscious for several hours, during which you may call appropriate authorities." The woman was still crying, which Spock found to be most illogical. "It is alright", he said, using the common phrase to attempt to soothe her. "The danger is past."

She nodded. "Yeah… they just… I was walking home, and they just…" She stopped talking abruptly. "You… you're the Vulcan teacher at the Academy? Right?"

Spock felt his spine stiffen. "Yes", he said quietly. "I am." He considered leaving now, before she asked-

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "I am… returning an item given to me by a friend." It was not a lie, not really… just an implication.

The woman nodded. "Okay, well… thanks." She sniffled. "I've gotta get out of here."

"Do you require escort to your home?" Spock asked the question earnestly, and he was grateful she did not laugh at him.

"No, it's just around the corner, here… I'll be fine." She turned and proceeded back the way she came. She stopped walking after a few steps, turned around to look at him again. "I'm Janice. Janice Rand."

Spock inclined his head again. "Stay safe, Ms. Rand", he told her, and she turned and walked away.

After a few moments, he turned and exited the alley as well, began to walk briskly to the Academy once again.

The impact of what he had done fully occurred to him then. He had saved another being from a dangerous situation, simply by being at the correct place at the correct time.

Even more remarkable was the fact that his human side had caused him to do so. His curiosity, his need to know what was wrong, his instinct…

It was a new thought… the idea that his human and Vulcan sides could be merged together and utilized. He would have to ponder the idea more thoroughly later.

Saving someone… it felt… right… purposeful… worth something…

He arrived at the Academy and made his way to Cadet Uhura's dormitory. As she opened the door and her beaming smile welcomed him and caused the lump in his throat to form again, he removed the mug from his jacket pocket.

She thought he was worth something, he supposed. So did Janice Rand.

Therefore, he decided, it was only logical to accept that he really was worth something after all.


End file.
